Join a daily celebration of poetry and the arts. This blog gives voice to the academics, the arts, creativity, expression and the pursuit of TRUTH. All art forms, all academic interests are timeless reflections and revelations of the human condition. Passion, poetry and the arts fuel the creative fires that move me to expression and deep gratitude. My published book of poems, THE WIND AND THE WILLOW is available at Barnes and Noble and online booksellers nationally and internationally.

About Me

Rose Marie Raccioppi, MS, FABI, is an award winning and honored master educator, an innovative and pioneering sound therapist, poet laureate, artist, advocate, activist, holding graduate degrees with honors in education and psychology. Her published book of poetry, "The Wind and the Willow," has been well received nationally and internationally. Pub. Date: June 2008, ISBN-13:9781604744545. She has received organizational, local, state and national honors for her exemplary services to children and families with special educational needs, and for her innovative development in the healing arts. She has been internationally recognized for her inspired poetry and art. She is presently designated, Poet Laureate, Orangetown, New York. Rose Marie is an active blogger, ever ready to share and expand what supports development, potential, well being, creativity and artistry. Rose Marie has been in private practice since 1983 as an educational consultant and sound therapist: http://www.apogeelearning.com
Indeed LIFE with PURPOSE.

Thursday, February 26, 2015

This labyrinth of mind calls to my SOULTo reach the SELF, a heartfelt goalEnter this path to a center placeHold to this knowing, your WILL to traceThe circle, the spiral, a labyrinth does makeA purposeful path, a journey to takeA circuitous travel to the center DIVINEWithin, without, be this journey mineKnow I of this center, its silent roarWithin, without, my SPIRIT to soar.

Certainty be an ever present variable of changeWhat lies ahead bears many a term and many a nameWhat with certainty can one with heart and mind proclaimBe it that the breath present bears life its claimThe heart in its pulsing passion sounds its pleaThis breath of life, the gift of time on to theeSavor the ebb and flow of life and spirit withinHear the rhythmic call beyond the oppressive dinHeed well the sounding glory sacred and divineHold in revered celebration life's gift, the pulse of time.

Rose Marie RaccioppiPoet LaureateOrangetown, New York

THIS POET'S WORD

These echoes of heart in sensibilities revealThe TRUTH OF BEING bar concealPassions pulsing plea to be heardAnd so be known this poet's wordLoss and lament a tear filled callJoy and delight beyond befallIn revelation be known the depths of despairAll astride with blessed love and careThe rising sun and gone be the nightHeld I in the embrace of the dawning lightThe feel of the showering water sweet upon my skinA baptism new, absolved I of all false sinJudgments, reprisals, fallacious be their reinFor the SOUL'S PRESENCE knows not constrainConfront and resolve the breath calls outTo purpose, to purpose, to purpose, devout.

"... But poets, or those who imagine and express this indestructible order, are not only the authors of language and of music, of the dance, and architecture, and statuary, and painting: they are the institutors of laws, and the founders of civil society, and the inventors of the arts of life, and the teachers, who draw into a certain propinquity with the beautiful and the true that partial apprehension of the agencies of the invisible world. Poets, according to the circumstances of the age and nation in which they appeared, were called, in the earlier epochs of the world, legislators, or prophets: a poet essentially comprises and unites both these characters. For he not only beholds intensely the present as it is, and discovers those laws according to which present things ought to be ordered, but he beholds the future in the present, and his thoughts are the germs of the flower and the fruit of latest time..." A Defence of Poetry, Percy Bysshe Shelley, 1792 – 1822.

Monday, February 23, 2015

Language provides an echo - it is not the original - words are representations, symbols, utterances, that the inner spirit longs to be known - to self - to others and to the ultimate SELF. As a poet, language echoes my heart's lament, my soul's joy and my spirit's quest to soar, echoes holding to praise and gratitude, a sounding sense of purpose.

Words, those markers of thought, sounding within us, hanker for expression. Words, those marks upon paper, our own or that of another find their meaning within us. A poem, its meter, its rhythm, its rhyme, its structure, its pulse, calls for our attentive consideration. Within the words, the line, the totality of a poem, we to find meaning, inspiration, an accord, a resolve, and yes, another question.